Sandiya and Shiva, They're Journey through Love

Chapter 3: Crossroads of Love

Shiva's POV

The spotlight had its allure, a seductive dance of fame and adoration that enveloped my life as a musician. Canada embraced my retro melodies, and I felt on top of the world as the cheers of the crowd washed over me. But the world beyond the stage was a battlefield of opinions, and the harsh words of critics cut deeper than any applause. The love and the hate were intertwined, and the hate seemed to scream louder.

Every note I played was like a piece of my soul, a melody that connected me to the past and the present. The journey from college to fame had been exhilarating, but with it came the weight of expectations that sometimes felt suffocating. The online forums buzzed with negativity, and the more I tried to prove myself, the more I seemed to stumble.

Late one night, alone in my dimly lit apartment, my guitar felt heavier than usual. The strings that had once felt like an extension of me now seemed like chains, binding me to a reality I wasn't sure I could handle. I stared at my phone, knowing that a call to Pooja could soothe the storm within me. But I hesitated. I didn't want to burden her, to shatter the image of strength I had projected.

But the struggle became unbearable, and I found myself longing for her soothing voice, the voice that had become my sanctuary. One night, as the moon cast a silver glow over everything, I dialed her number.

"Hey, Shiva," her voice greeted me, a ray of warmth in the darkness.

"Hi," I replied, my voice betraying the turmoil within me. "I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you so much."

"I miss you too," she said softly, and in that moment, I felt like the distance between Canada and Brazil had evaporated.

As I recounted the challenges I was facing, Pooja listened, her empathy like a balm to my wounds. "You're not alone in this, Shiva. Remember, we're partners in this journey."

But even as I spoke to her, a part of me held back, the weight of my struggles clashing with my desire to be strong for her. I wanted to protect her from my pain, to keep her perception of me untarnished.

Days turned into weeks, and the distance in my voice became more pronounced. Our conversations, once filled with laughter and dreams, now felt strained, our connection weakening like an old radio signal.

Pooja sensed the change and confronted me one night. "Shiva, something's off. Is everything okay?"

"I'm dealing with some stuff, Pooja. It's nothing," I replied, evading her concern.

But Pooja saw through my words. "Shiva, we're in this together, remember? You can tell me anything."

I sighed, the walls I had built around my emotions finally crumbling. "I know, Pooja. It's just... the hate, the criticism. It's suffocating me."

Her words of support and understanding were a lifeline, a reminder that our love was stronger than the negativity. But the idea of burdening her with my struggles held me back from revealing everything.

And then, a decision was made. A decision that seemed like salvation—a way to escape the relentless criticism and find solace in a new beginning. I decided to leave Canada and head to Brazil, the place where Pooja had found her own success.

Arriving in Brazil was a mix of excitement and trepidation. Would Pooja understand my reasons for being here? Would my struggles seem trivial in the face of her accomplishments?

As I stood before her, her surprise and joy were palpable. "Shiva? What are you doing here?"

I hesitated, the weight of my decision hanging heavy in the air. "I couldn't stay in Canada anymore, Pooja. The hate, the criticism... it was suffocating me. And I heard about this company, about the environment of creativity and support... I needed a change."